The Courtesan and the Samurai

by Lesley Downer

  She ran her fingers across his face and stroked his smooth cheek, then took his hand, feeling the calluses that edged his palm.

  ‘This hand has seen fighting,’ she said softly.

  ‘Remember what I told you,’ he said, stroking her hair. ‘I’ll always be here to protect you.’

  Hana put her arms around him, feeling his body hot against hers. Their lips brushed again and she closed her eyes and let herself dissolve in the shock of desire his touch awakened in her.

  Outside, the corridor was silent. With a mad recklessness that was like a reaching out for freedom, she let her body melt into his and their lips closed in a kiss so intense it took her breath away.

  31

  The morning was hot and sultry and Yozo was lounging in Hana’s sleeping chamber in the Corner Tamaya. He ran his fingers through her hair, which tumbled in a glossy cascade across the pillowy futons, and thought the gods must have taken him under their protection. A few days had passed since the fight and he still couldn’t believe how much his life had changed.

  Their snatched moments together were intensely sweet, all the more so because they had to be so surreptitious. He loved her fragrance, the softness of her skin when he gathered her up in his arms and held her. To the outside world she was a famous beauty; but he knew that with him she could be herself.

  Outside, wild geese were flocking and the first bottle gourds were blooming along the walls of the Yoshiwara. Summer was coming to an end. After so much disaster – the unwinnable war, the desperate battles in the burning heat – Yozo had finally begun to forget the horrors he’d seen and look towards the future.

  They still hadn’t made love. He knew he had her heart, but her body was reserved for other men. The fact that he could never spend a night with her tortured him – yet for all the obstacles that surrounded them, he was happier than he could ever have dared imagine.

  He hadn’t forgotten his mission to free Enomoto and Otori and that too was beginning to fall into place. The northern soldier he had helped, Ichimura, had joined him along with two comrades he’d tracked down, Hiko and Heizo, and they were doing their best to locate their imprisoned comrades.

  Whenever he came for his morning visits, Hana dismissed the maids and closed the doors of the sleeping chamber, leaving them open a crack so she could hear if anyone was approaching. Kawanoto, her young attendant, whom she had taken into her confidence, had promised to keep watch and warn them if Auntie was on her way.

  Now Hana lay on her side, smiling up at him.

  ‘Is it true? Has Saburo really gone?’ he asked.

  ‘He didn’t come back even once. Auntie told me he’d sent a message saying he’d gone to Osaka on business. Of course, I told her how disappointed I was.’ She smiled mischievously.

  ‘He’ll be back,’ said Yozo. ‘But we’ll deal with that when it happens.’ He kissed her nose, smelling the scent of her hair, feeling it brush against his chest as she nestled against him.

  ‘I loved seeing you in western clothes yesterday,’ she whispered. ‘You looked so handsome.’

  ‘Auntie’s very pleased,’ Yozo said. ‘All thanks to you.’

  Hana had persuaded Auntie that what the Corner Tamaya needed to give it the edge above the other houses was an interpreter for the wealthy westerners who were beginning to arrive at the Yoshiwara. Before, unless they’d been brought by Japanese colleagues, they’d always had to go away again, despondent because they couldn’t communicate with the girls – except, that is, for the foreign sailors, who weren’t interested in talking and headed straight for the lower-class brothels along the back alleys. Otsuné’s cousin, Hana had told Auntie, could speak the westerners’ languages and, with him as interpreter, the Corner Tamaya would be able to attract a far higher – and better-paying – level of clientele.

  ‘So Tama had her first western clients last night,’ Hana said.

  ‘There were two of them, Englishmen. Tama wanted to know if they needed an extra girl as well, or a boy, but I told her I couldn’t ask Englishmen a question like that.’ He laughed. ‘I told her we have to encourage them to come back, not scare them away.’

  ‘Englishmen must be very strange,’ said Hana, laughing too. ‘I thought they came here to enjoy themselves.’

  ‘They gave her an excellent tip, so Tama was pleased, and they’ve already booked her again for tonight, so they must have been satisfied.’

  In the distance a bell began to toll, booming out from the temple at the far end of the boulevard. Hana started and looked up at him.

  ‘We have so little time together – and always in the morning,’ she said wistfully.

  ‘I’ll find a way to take you away from all this,’ he whispered, kissing her hair.

  He stood up, pulling his robe around him. It was time to leave. He was taking a last lingering look around the sleeping chamber when he noticed something had changed.

  On the small household altar in the shadows to one side of the room were fresh offerings and a photograph with candles burning beside it. The metal box he’d noticed before was there too, behind the photograph.

  Seeing it gave him a shock like a physical blow. In the few days they’d known each other, Yozo had not said much about his life before they met and Hana hadn’t either. He had talked about his journey to Europe – though he knew that to her it was more like a fantasy – but he’d skirted around the war in Ezo and what he’d done there, and he’d never asked about her past or how she’d come to be in the Yoshiwara. Yoshiwara women never talked about their past; as far as their clients were concerned, their lives had begun when they arrived there. With Hana he had an intimacy which her clients could never dream of, but nevertheless he had not thought to ask her who or what she had once been. But now all this untold history seemed to close in around him, threatening to crush their cocoon of happiness.

  He stepped towards the altar. He was reluctant to see the face in the photograph – he had a superstitious feeling he might recognize it – but he also felt an uncontrollable curiosity. The picture was faded and yellowing, curling at the edges, and it was difficult to make it out in the candlelight, but it was clear enough for Yozo to see the broad forehead, the piercing eyes and the thick hair swept back.

  A chill ran down his spine and his throat constricted. Just as he’d started a new life, just as he’d thought the war and its horrors were behind him, this face had returned to haunt him. He swallowed, hearing the roar of gunfire in his ears, feeling the heat of the blazing town, and rounding a corner in a ruined street to see this face looming before him. For there could be no doubting it: it was the Commander.

  He stared at the picture, stifled by the incense and candle smoke. There could be only one reason why it was here in the room of this woman who had captured his heart: she must be the daughter or the sister or – most unthinkable of all – the widow of his enemy. He should leave now, he told himself, with no explanation. He had no right to be here. But then he remembered Saburo and the dark street in Batavia. Saburo would be back soon, and he couldn’t let Hana fall into his hands.

  ‘This man – who is he to you?’ he asked, his voice thick. ‘Is he your brother? Your father?’

  ‘My husband.’ Her words were like a stone falling into a lake, sending ripples into the silence. ‘Did you know him?’

  He clenched his fists, feeling himself break out into a sweat. He couldn’t lie to her, they’d become too close. But he knew that if he told her the truth – that he had killed this man – he’d lose her for ever.

  He hesitated, wondering how to reply. ‘Everyone knew Commander Yamaguchi,’ he said finally.

  ‘Please keep my secret,’ she said urgently. ‘My husband was a rebel, like you, and a famous one. If anyone knew, I’d be ruined. The men that come here are all southerners.’ He heard the panic in her voice.

  He nodded. There was a long silence.

  When she spoke again there was relief in her voice. ‘I know he was a great man and a great warrior; everyo
ne was in awe of him. My parents told me how lucky I was to be given in marriage to such a man. But I was always afraid of him. It’s a terrible thing to say, but I was happy when he left for the war. But then I ended up here, in the Yoshiwara. I’ve been so afraid that he’d come back and find me here and kill me.’

  She moved the photograph and candles aside and lifted down the box. ‘Then Ichimura brought me a letter from him and this box. At first I didn’t know what I should do; but I realized it was my duty to mourn him. I knew you might see the photograph and recognize him but there’s no one else alive now who can pay respect to his spirit. His last wish was for his mementoes to be buried in the family tomb in Kano and I’ll do that. He was harsh and cruel, but he was still my husband.’

  She opened the box. ‘It’s strange, but I feel as if I never really knew him. He wrote a poem and when I read it, I was touched by it.’

  She took out a small scroll and unrolled it. Yozo was back in Ezo, seeing Kitaro’s body in the moonlight and bursting into the Commander’s rooms. He could see the Commander’s handsome face and the brush in his hand and hear him saying sardonically, ‘Your death poem. Have you written your death poem yet, Tajima?’ The first line of the Commander’s poem had burned into his mind. He recognized the confident brushstrokes as he read the words:

  Though my body may decay on the island of Ezo,

  My spirit guards my lord in the east.

  Somehow the picture hadn’t been enough to convince him that the Commander really was Hana’s husband. But now as he saw the poem he knew it was true: they were one and the same.

  ‘I’m not even sure he’s dead,’ she whispered, rolling the paper up and putting it back in the box. ‘Ichimura left Ezo long before the last battle and didn’t see him fall. I always have the fear lurking at the back of my mind that he might not be dead after all, that he’ll come back and find me.’

  As she spoke, Yozo realized that he was the one person in the world who knew for sure what had happened to her husband.

  ‘I have a secret too,’ he said hoarsely; but as he spoke he realized he couldn’t tell her that he had shot his own commanding officer, that he had killed the Commander. No matter how she felt about her husband, it was too dreadful a crime to confess.

  ‘I … I fought in the last battle. I was there, I saw him fall.’ He shook his head. ‘Don’t ask me to tell you any more. He’s dead, believe me, I know he’s dead.’

  She put her arms around him and he buried his face in her hair. ‘Let’s not talk about it any more,’ she said. ‘It’s over. We’re here together now.’

  32

  Hana stood at the door of the Corner Tamaya, bowing to the last of her clients as he turned into the boulevard, then made her way back to her rooms, her mind still buzzing with the conversation she had had with Yozo the day before.

  There was so much she would have liked to ask him – how her husband had died, for a start, and what had happened to his body; but she knew she would never be able to. She had seen the pain on Yozo’s face; it was obvious he could hardly bear to think about the war. She should be grateful that he had told her as much as he had, she thought.

  She didn’t even know how well he had known her husband, only that he had been present when he died. They must have been fighting shoulder to shoulder. But the one thing she could be sure of was that her husband was dead. A burden had been lifted from her shoulders, now that Yozo knew her secret. She was no longer alone – and no longer in fear of her husband. With Yozo’s help she would find a way to escape and they would go back together to her house, to Oharu and Gensuké.

  She would find a way to smuggle Yozo into her sleeping chamber that night, she told herself, hide him in the futon cupboard, perhaps. The thought of it made her laugh out loud. She knew he was far too proud, he would never agree to something so ignominious.

  While the maids bustled around, clearing the dishes and folding the futons, she went to the altar and lit the candles and incense and laid out fresh offerings. Hearing footsteps, she looked up eagerly, thinking it was Yozo arriving for his morning visit; but then her face fell as she realized it was not his rapid stride but a shuffle. Pulling her robe around her, she ran into the reception room.

  A moment later there was a cough outside and Auntie hobbled in in a cloud of tobacco smoke. Hana looked at her in surprise. The old woman was in a plain cotton robe as if she had dressed in a hurry, without any make-up or wig. She had a strange gleam in her eye. She went over to the alcove and straightened the scroll, studied the shelf of tea ceremony implements and shifted the whisks and bamboo spoons around, then knelt beside the tobacco box and started to refill her pipe.

  ‘How long have you been with us, my dear?’ she enquired in her ancient croak. ‘More than half a year, isn’t it? I’ve grown so fond of you, as if you were my own daughter.’

  Taking the kettle off the brazier, Hana filled the teapot and nodded politely, wondering what Auntie was leading up to. It wasn’t like her to be so friendly.

  ‘From the moment I saw you I always knew you’d do well,’ Auntie said. ‘You’ve really brought the Yoshiwara back to life. It’s nearly as glorious now as it was in its heyday, when I was the star courtesan, celebrated across the country – not quite as glorious, of course, but nearly. And the Corner Tamaya is its most famous house, entirely thanks to you. No other house can boast a courtesan with anything like your charms. You’re booked up for months. We’re very pleased, my dear.’

  She leaned forward. Her face was withered but Hana could see the fine bones under the ruined skin and picture the beautiful woman she had once been.

  Auntie wasn’t showing any signs of being about to leave. She called to the maids and gave them a scolding, then sent Kawanoto out to get a menu from one of the vendors, puffing energetically on her pipe all the while, then took a sip of the tea Hana offered her. If she didn’t go soon, Hana thought despairingly, the morning would be over and there’d be no chance of Yozo visiting that day.

  Then Auntie took a long draw on her pipe, puffed out a cloud of smoke and sat back on her heels. ‘I wanted to tell you the news as soon as your clients had gone. I knew you’d be excited at such extraordinary good luck. But you deserve it, no one more than you.’

  Hana sat up, staring suspiciously. Auntie always came to the point straight away; whatever it was she had to say, it couldn’t be good.

  ‘I must say, I’ll be sorry to see you go,’ said Auntie.

  Hana had stopped breathing. Whatever could Auntie mean? Could it be that she was planning to cancel Hana’s debt and give her her freedom? She would never dream of doing such a thing. No, something else was going on.

  ‘I know you’ll miss us too,’ Auntie continued. ‘Of course, you’ll need to pack up and get ready, but there’ll be plenty of time to make the arrangements and give you a good send-off.’

  Someone must have offered to buy her freedom, Hana thought; but in that case why didn’t Auntie just come out and say so, instead of being so evasive?

  ‘It’ll be a wonderful occasion. Saburo’s going to close the Yoshiwara for the night and throw the biggest party anyone’s ever heard of.’

  Hana looked at her uncomprehendingly. ‘Saburo … ?’

  ‘Yes, you’ve caught the biggest fish in the country, the one all the girls were after. All these years he’s been such a playboy. He’s always said he was looking for the perfect woman and now, it seems, he’s found her at last. I’m not surprised, mind you, with your talents and looks. He’s going to throw a huge party for you when he gets back from Osaka.’

  ‘You mean … Saburo’s made an offer and you’ve come to ask whether I agree?’ Numb with horror, Hana could barely frame the words.

  ‘My dear girl, you have to move quickly if you want to do business round here. If we hadn’t agreed straight away he might very well have looked elsewhere. He’s the most desirable man that’s ever passed through the Yoshiwara. Remember, Father and I have nothing but your best interests in mind. You
’re just a young girl, you have no idea about the world.’

  For a moment, Hana was dumbstruck. Then the words burst out before she could stop them. ‘You mean you’ve sold me to Saburo? But … but you can’t do that.’

  Auntie’s smile froze. She had that glint in her eye that reminded Hana that no matter how glamorous and famous she might think she was, she was still just a possession. ‘I can do anything I want, my girl,’ she said smoothly. ‘Don’t forget, you haven’t paid us back a single copper mon yet. You owe us a great deal of money and your debt is getting larger by the day. But don’t worry, we’ve worked it all out – how much you could make for us by staying here and how much we’ll get if we accept Saburo’s offer. Saburo is a generous man and he’s determined to have you.’

  Her face changed and she gave a bland smile. ‘It’s for your own good, my dear. We’re thinking of your future.’

  Hana swallowed hard. She couldn’t imagine anything more dreadful.

  ‘No need to worry your head over it,’ said Auntie dismissively, rising to her feet. ‘You don’t even have to have other clients any more. I’ve cancelled all your appointments.

  ‘And don’t imagine you might slip away,’ she snapped as Hana opened her mouth to protest. ‘You’re far too valuable. Till Saburo comes to collect you, you’ll stay right here in your rooms. We’ll make sure you have all the food and sewing materials and paper and books you could possibly want. Oh, and that Yozo – I’ve told the men he’s not to bother you. You can have a lovely time, reading, sewing, practising tea ceremony, getting ready for the day when Saburo comes to claim you.

  ‘Father’s already settled everything and taken a deposit. You’re Saburo’s property now.’

  Hana sat for a long time after the door had closed and the footsteps had shuffled away, too stunned even to weep. Then, as the full meaning of what Auntie had said began to sink in, she stumbled into her sleeping chamber, buried her face in her futons and sobbed till she thought she could have no more tears left. Just as she’d had a taste of happiness for the first time in her life, she’d lost everything. Sold to Saburo! It was a fate more terrible than she could ever have imagined. Even Yozo couldn’t save her now.